


drag your cities to the sea

by BriarBone



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Ambiguous-Gender Apprentice (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana) Route Spoilers, Codependency, F/M, Gaslighting, M/M, Memory Alteration, Other, Post Reverse End, Soft Until It's Not, Unnamed Apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarBone/pseuds/BriarBone
Summary: You lose yourself in the repetition, the pestle heavy in your hand as you press down.  Over and over and over, the pods breaking beneath the pressure and the smells just registering at the edge of your mind.  Something still feels off and you can’t quite slip away into thoughtless calm.  What did you dream of, last night?“Don’t get too lost, I can’t follow if you do.”  It strikes you as odd, the way Asra’s casual tone seems to break at the end and how his fingers dig gently into your sides.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	drag your cities to the sea

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Florence + The Machine's "Big God".
> 
> I'm leaving this a one shot for now, I may come back to it (I have several more chapters written but am considering rewriting them).

You’ve been here before. 

You turn slowly in the dark, looking for your hands but finding nothing. Wiggling your fingers doesn’t so much as ripple the air around you. Beneath your feet there is formless solidity, but when you take a step you find yourself free floating in the black. Take a deep breath, let it last, and release it soundlessly into the void. You know you’ve been here before. The place between realms, the emptiness before the breaking of waves. You should be afraid of it, you think, but you find yourself more curious. What’s the purpose of this space? 

There is only one world.

The darkness around you tightens, constricting your movements. For all that you can’t feel the air around you there’s an awareness that something is closing in. Fear starts to trickle through but in equal measure there’s something like hope, and you can’t explain that emotion by any span. Somewhere out in the endless void, there’s a voice. Desperation echoes like the chimes in the singing canyons. You know that voice. You know the name it’s calling for, too.

_”Asra?”_

Your eyes open slowly to fix dazedly on a concerned face leaning over you. Asra is haloed by the red glow of the sky, and he smiles in relief as you lift a hand to smooth the worry-lines from his brow. Fingertips linger over his left eye, and he gently grips your hand to bring your palm to his lips.

“Good morning.” He gives you just enough space to push yourself up onto your elbows, so you take advantage of the closeness to steal a dry mouthed kiss. His lips are chapped from sleep. You wet your own with your tongue, dragging slowly over your lower lip. You must have bitten it in the night. What had you dreamed of again? Asra’s eyes flicker to your mouth before meeting your gaze once more.

“You were talking in your sleep.” He runs a hand through your hair, tugging lightly at the strands just over your ear. You snort and bat at him.

“Oh. Don’t I always?” It feels good to stretch out your limbs, raising your arms high so that they cast shadows over the wall. You wiggle your fingers, and the shadows wiggle back.

“Do you?” Asra gives you a mildly bewildered look, as though he could forget such a thing, and you huff out a laugh.

“You’re sleep addled. Here, let’s try to rest some more. Clear that beautiful head of yours.” As you draw him in, you rap gently at his temple with your knuckles. Asra laughs and lets himself be pulled into your embrace. The pair of you watch the sky change through the open window, light going red to green to hazy orange. It’s a gentle slide to wakefulness for you, though your partner is a lost cause. Asra dozes against your breast, his hands moving slowly up and down your arms were you’ve got them folded over his shoulders. You let him rest. It’s another day, and you have all the time in the world.

 _“Up!”_ Or perhaps not. Faust slithers in across the windowsill, likely returning from her midmorning nap in the sun. She gets bored with the bed sometimes. You can’t relate.

“MmmmmNo.” Asra’s response is muffled by the skin of your throat, which he follows up with blowing a raspberry into your shoulder. Faust joins in to flick her tongue against your arm. Laughter flows easily, you and Asra both shaking with it, and Faust knots around herself joyfully. It’s so tempting to stay put, to just bask in the warmth and love you’re surrounded with, but there’s something pressing at the back of your mind.

“Mmm, yes. I’m starving.” As though your body only remembers to be hungry when you say it, your stomach rumbles.

“I can feel that.” Hooded eyes blink up at you, and Asra sighs before pressing a kiss to your neck. A hint of teeth has you shivering but before you can get distracted, Asra is up and off you, already heading for the kitchen. The view is spectacular, as always; you watch him move until the beaded curtain sways to stillness behind him. Pale violet catches your eye as Faust shifts where she’s curled near your arm.

“You too?” You murmur, reaching out to pick her up. Her soft body is sunwarmed and pliant beneath your fingertips. She allows it only so that she can come to curl around your shoulders, her tongue tickling your ear. She seems distracted. You follow her gaze to the window, and find yourself feeling much the same.

You have been here for a very, very, very long time. Why do you feel as though you’ve been somewhere else before?

Your head aches. Faust wraps herself tightly around your shoulders, the rasp of her scales on your bare skin a soothing familiarity. You must have had a really strange dream, or you wouldn’t be so shaken up. Asra calls from the kitchen for you to join him, so you pull on a robe and go. Orange light catches on the beads of the curtain as you pull the strings aside, and they sound like bells as you let them go behind you. Faust rattles them again with her tail just before you step away into the small kitchen.

Asra passes you a glass jar filled with spices, and you reach for the mortar and pestle to grind the cardamom pods. At some point you’ve managed to grow what you needed for masala chai, so making it has become a short time of meditation. You lose yourself in the repetition, the pestle heavy in your hand as you press down. Over and over and over, the pods breaking beneath the pressure and the smells just registering at the edge of your mind. Something still feels off and you can’t quite slip away into thoughtless calm. What did you dream of, last night?

Faust reaches for Asra’s arm as he comes near and he takes advantage of the moment to rest his hands around your waist, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. Distracted from your worries, you turn your head to get a proper kiss on the mouth.

“Don’t get too lost, I can’t follow if you do.” It strikes you as odd, the way Asra’s casual tone seems to break at the end and how his fingers dig gently into your sides. You never pause in grinding the spices.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You assure him. Your thoughts wander, but never very far. Same as it is when the two of you venture off into the world. Asra kisses the skin behind your ear before moving away. Despite your words, the nervousness begins to carry you off again until Asra’s singing brings you back.

It’s like a spell in itself. Faust curls around Asra’s neck and shoulders so that her head is resting upon his, watching you as you join in the song. His voice is the only one you know. Together, you sing while finishing breakfast. It occurs to you that you don’t remember where you learned the words. As your voice falters, you feel a bump against your hip. Asra leans into sight, a smile on his beautiful mouth.

“More spice?” He asks, his teeth glinting in the late morning light. You taste the spoon he holds out to you. The carved wood scraps against your lower lip, and you bite at it before Asra pulls back again. Flavor clashes on your tongue. Cinnamon, salt, milk. Where has the milk come from, again? You suck slowly on the lingering taste coating your teeth. Memory of a bustling plaza catches your mind, but only briefly.

“More sweet,” you declare, and lean in to steal a kiss.


End file.
